Dark Shadows On The Bayou
by Little-Firestar84
Summary: In the sequel to "The Detective's unexpected pregnancy" and "The Broken-Hearted Club", Chris and Georgie are finally where they have always wanted to be and have it all - the perfect family and the jobs they love. But someone with a vengeance against one of them is lurking in the shadows, ready to get back what has been taken away from him… and to paint the bayou in blood red.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

 **Notes:** written for the het_bigbang on Livejournal. Thanks to **red_b_rackham** for beta-reading _and_ editing. Girl, you rock!

* * *

"Already leaving? Plans with that fresh husband of yours?"

As she was turning her laptop off, Georgie shook her head. She chuckled at the mirth in Doctor Wade's voice, then groaned.

"I wish," she said, a bit more dramatically than she probably was supposed to, adding some pathos to her sentence. "Chris is working the Private Robinson case. He and Percy will be probably interrogating the crew of the _USS Enterprise_ until the next life."

Georgie sighed, her mind a bit faraway. She knew she wasn't being fair, with Chris nor with Pride, who had sent her husband to the high seas for only God knew how many days. She had worked homicides herself in the past, back in her FBI and in her LAPD days; there was a reason Chris used to make fun of her and telling her she fell asleep at her desk - because it was true.

Their jobs were demanding, and if nowadays they were lucky enough to preserve evidence for years, sometimes even _decades - she_ knew that interrogations and witnessing were a whole other matter. Witnesses mixed facts, forgot small details (which, in retrospect, weren't so small after all), and mostly… suspects getting away. _Literally_.

"I just want to get back home to my baby, play with her a bit and then try to fall asleep in that big empty bed of mine." Georgie sighed.

She was making it sound so much worse that it was- Loretta knew she was exaggerating- but deep down it was the truth. After being on her own for so many years, and with Chris away on assignment, she missed him and his very presence at her side in her everyday life. They had been together barely a little more than a year, and yet she couldn't fathom the idea of getting back to an empty house ever again.

At least, back home, there was _their_ Caitlin to keep her occupied, body and mind, with her daddy gone…

"Speaking of which, I _really_ have to go." Georgie said as she took her bag from a metallic drawer of her desk. "I don't really want to waste Melody's babysitting hours with work, as fun as it is…" Georgie chuckled, a smile gracing her lips.

She and Melody- Chris' ex, and the mother of a son he hadn't known he had until a few months back- had had a rocky start. And yet, now they were _friends,_ to Christopher's eternal chagrin. And it even got worse: for the sake of the half-siblings, Melody had moved barely two buildings down their same street, and she liked babysitting for them, something that creeped Chris out a bit. But, considering that when they had Tucker over was it was because Mel was on a date, well, she just wished for once that they could do the same. But apparently, dating - _Do married people still date each other? I'm definitely a little bit rusty…_ \- wasn't something that married law enforcement agents with a young child were usually able to do.

Georgie rubbed her cranky neck as she retrieved her beige trench coat, still under the watchful gaze of Loretta, who shook her head. She knew she was working too much lately, and that she had the tendency to book overtime, but it wasn't really her fault. Crime never slept in New Orleans, after all.

She swore, it was worse than in New York _and_ Los Angeles put together – and when Sebastian had graduated to NCIS agent status, he had left the lab short-staffed, prey to Millennial interns who barely knew they were supposed to wash their hands before treating any evidence. Seriously, sometimes if felt like Hamilton and his Police Chief buddy were doing it on purpose, sending over people who kept jeopardizing cases and needed to be constantly monitored.

Which, knowing Hamilton? It was probably the case. What was better than having evidence that could, just maybe, lead back to him, contaminated by some idiots? The Mayor kept afloat, but King was working hard on finding some dirt on him. They all knew it was a matter of time. Sooner or later he would show the City what he truly was, a snake in human skin, a criminal who used his position to collect favours and dirt, and get richer and richer. He liked to pose as a victim, embellish facts with words like he was a magician. It was an offence to the _real_ victims.

Georgie took a big breath, rallying her thoughts, and said goodbye to Loretta and the few staff left there in the building. She didn't have her car today, so she decided to change her itinerary a bit- Melody wouldn't mind if she had been a little late, especially if she decided to show up with delicious, fresh and still warm food, ready to be devoured with a glass of Merlot and a cheesy movie while they lamented over their problems.

Besides, she _loved_ the Carnival, and city was in full swing, filled with energy and smiles and young love, the Quarter situated in the middle of it all. It was a beautiful sight, looking at the people from all the different _krewes_ coming together and "fighting" each other, but a little bit heart-breaking too. Most of these people weren't locals, coming to town just for the festivities. They would only look at this, the pulsating heart of the town. And yet, there was still so much pain, so much desolation, with entire neighbourhoods that hadn't survived Katrina, over a decade before. They had been left to themselves, either because of the greed of people like Gregorio's ex-husband, or because simply no one either knew or cared enough to do something about it.

The road was filled with cheering youngsters. Smiling and shaking her head, Georgie knew that many of them would be back by Spring Break time. She also had the distinct feeling that few of them would stay once and for all- if you looked hard enough, you could recognize the type, and how _they_ looked at the city. It happened at lot with New Orleans, and it had happened to a lot of them- Loretta, Chris, Gregorio, and Georgie herself. It hadn't happened with Merrie, though, but that was food for thought for another day…

"Ehy!" she practically screamed as a man elbowed her in the streets. She turned to him, and he stopped, dark sunglasses and baseball hat still on despite the night looming over them. Georgie shook her head, and he bowed his head, but by the way he smirked she knew he truly didn't feel sorry at all.

She walked away, annoyed, and groaning. She massaged her left arm, where he had hit her- oddly, it itched and burned. A few seconds later, she stopped before a street musician- a black man in his early twenties playing an old guitar under an unlit street lamp- her gaze fell on the her arm. The white cloth of her sleeved was slightly damp and there was a small hole- like a _puncture_ hole.

"What the…" she said. Suddenly, her energies left her; her whole body burned, and she couldn't focus on anything. Everything was a jumble of sounds and colours. Her head felt like it was exploding, and as the coat fell from her grasp, she knew she was only seconds away from losing consciousness.

"Easy there, luv, I've got you…" A male voice, with a thick Irish accent, spoke from… behind her, maybe?

Her knees were failing her, and the man kept her still, allowing her to lean on him. But, there was something… odd about him. It was like she _knew_ that voice, and yet there was something wrong about it. Like… like she knew he was in the wrong place, somehow.

"What…." she whispered barely able to say the one word. She was tired, so, _so_ tired, and all her muscles burned, rebelling against her. Even just looking at him and saying that one word put strain on her petite body.

The stranger moved in front of her. Holding Georgie by her arm, he used his free hand to lift his baseball hat just for a fraction of second, just enough so that she could meet his eyes- blue piercing eyes, burning and yet as cold as ice - and she knew exactly what was happening, and _who_ was responsible for it.

 _No,_ she tried to say, but the words failed her.

She wanted to run away, wanted to escape the maniac grin printed on his handsome face, but she was unable to. Her body was turning on her, betraying her in ways she had never thought possible. She hoped that someone could see the horror and fear in her eyes, on her face, and help her.

The nightmare took shape once again right before her eyes, her mind filled with memories of… of her biggest shame, her secret, something that no one knew about. Not her family, nor Gibbs or Pride. She hadn't even talked about it with Chris. Sonja, though...she guessed that Sonja at least _suspected_ something from their hinted conversations, but she had never been fully open about it. There were dark places her soul had wandered into in the past- places too dark even for her surrogate family to deal with.

 _He_ was here, and no one would know his whereabouts. No one would take him as a person of interest after whatever he was going to do with her. Not unless they dug deep- that would take time. Something she feared she didn't have.

He smiled at her, as handsome as she remembered him, holding her now with both hands on her elbows.

 _No,_ she thought again, unable to look at anything but his icy eyes. _No, please, not now…_

"I've got you, Annie…" he said, his voice menacing, his accent as thick as ever. He leaned closer to her, his nose gazing hers, his hot breath on her skin. He smelled like cheap whisky - _nothing new there_. And yet, it wasn't reassuring at all. If nothing else, it scared the hell out of her even more.

He turned towards the street musician, his grip on her never faltering. Darkness was taking her away quicker and quicker, and the words started to die in her mind.

"My wife can't hold her liquor, and yet…" The Irishman didn't finish the sentence. He just shrugged like it was nothing, maybe an everyday occurrence, his smirk fully in place. He held Georgie against his side, looking down at her, with what many would have assumed love and affection. He chuckled, and dragged her away.

The CSI was unable to even think about fighting, all too aware of what the whole ordeal was supposed to look like to an outsider. It was New Orleans, after all- on top of that, it was Mardi Gras. The city was filled with strangers getting drunk. No one was going to assume anything.

Not until it was too late.

"Got you back, Annie…" the Irishman hissed in her ear as they left the filled and lively street of the Quarter. He held her against his side with enough force to let her know, even in her inebriated state, that he meant business. He didn't seem to have a gun, or at least, he wasn't pointing one at her in that moment, but she knew he didn't need to. She was in no shape to fight back, and she knew that he didn't want to get any unwanted attention while he carried out his plan, whatever it was.

As he dragged her away, her beige trench coat lay on the pavement, people stepping on it without even noticing. The street musician did; he grabbed it and looked around for the woman who had lost it and left him a few bills, but he couldn't see her.

Her or her creepy husband.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

 **Notes:** written for the het_bigbang on Livejournal. Thanks to **red_b_rackham** for beta-reading _and_ editing. Girl, you rock!

* * *

The sun lazily filtered between the semi-closed blinds of her apartment in the French Quarter when Melody woke up. Still in bed and half asleep, the blonde stretched her arms and legs, and checked her alarm clock out of the corner of her eye. It was half past six, which meant that Tucker had allowed her to sleep the whole night.

Speaking of her son…

She went from her room to the nursery, and when she got to the white wooden door, decorated with bright cartoonish animals, she felt somehow… perplexed. When she had gone to bed around ten pm, Georgina still had yet to come and get Caitlin. It wasn't so unusual, especially after Sebastian had switched jobs and the crime lab was under-staffed. Besides, with two children to think about, Christopher tended to book as much overtime as he could.

Both Christopher and his wife had spare keys for similar occasions; it had happened already a couple of times that they had come to get their baby in the middle of the night after an extra-long shift. But they would always, _always_ leave a note on the door to let her know that Cait was with them and that everything was all right.

 _Maybe they forgot…_ she thought, even if her whole body shivered with worry. She already knew the answer: Georgina and Christopher would have never forgotten something like that, they weren't that kind of parents and they would have never upset her like that.

Slowly, silently, she opened the nursery door a little – enough that she could see the tiny bed by the window. She gulped. The two half-siblings, almost the same age, were peacefully asleep. The children were on their sides, facing each other, and Tucker was sucking his thumb while Cait, with her flowery beige dress, looked almost like a porcelain doll or a fairy.

It was a beautiful, heart-filling scene. It made her love the two kids even more than she already did – even if just one of them was her own. But, at the same time, it filled her heart and her mind with dread – like she had never felt before.

Trying to calm down her breathing, Melody searched for her phone. It was time to make some calls, and get some answers. She prayed that they would be what she hoped for.

"Office of the Jefferson parish Coroner, Loretta Wade's speaking. How can I be of help?"

The middle-aged woman answered the phone, her voice filled with mirth – something that not many expected from someone in her line of work. Yes, her job was grim, but it didn't mean she didn't have a reason to be happy. Besides, she had always _just loved_ bringing a ray of sunshine to people's existences. _That_ was the kind of person she had always wanted to be, and had fought hard to become after the traumatic experience of an unfortunate marriage and a psychologically abusive (now ex) husband.

"Hello?" She asked when the person on the other side of the phone didn't utter a word. Lifting her eyebrows quizzically, Doc Wade checked the number on the small screen of her phone, finding it visible. It didn't exclude the possibility of a prankster or a pervert - many of them were stupid, after all – but her gut told her it wasn't the case. After all, everybody in New Orleans agreed that there was something voodoo about her because of how she was always right…

"Miss Wade?" Asked a feminine voice from the other side of the line.

Loretta lifted her eyebrow again, as she picked up on the identity of her mysterious caller: Melody James, the mother of Christopher's love-child.

"Miss Wade, I'm sorry to call you at work, but I was wondering if Georgina was still there…" Her voice was low and uncertain, almost scared.

Loretta didn't speak; she breathed in and out, her eyes huge, heart racing with worry. Melody immediately knew the answer to her question.

"Georgina didn't come to pick Cait up last night, and from the look of things, she hasn't been home at all either." Melody paused. "I've been trying her phone since I woke up, but it goes straight to voicemail."

Loretta ran her hand through her hair, and bit her lips, breathing slowly, trying to reassure herself that it was all right, that their anxiety was exaggerated.

"Listen, don't worry, all right?" she said. "I'm going to check with Pride and see what he knows. Maybe something came up and she just worked the case."

At the other side of the line, Melody agreed. As soon as she ended the call, Loretta immediately dialed the number she knew by heart. Eyes closed, she took another big breath, hoping that she hadn't just lied to Melody.

Hoping that, for once in her life, her gut was wrong.

"All right Loretta, I'll take care of it. I'll let you know as soon as something came up." Finishing the call, Dwayne Pride – "King" for his many friends and the people of his beloved city – slowly walked to the kitchen of their base of operations, a scowl etched on his handsome features.

"What happened? Someone dies? Well, of course someone died – 99% of the times we're called it's because someone did die." Sebastian rambled. "I'm sorry, I still need to get used to being around so many people. Normally I'm always alone in the lab and I end up talking with myself and…"

A spoon of milk and cereal still half-way to his mouth, Sebastian zipped his mouth closed when he saw that King's expression wasn't getting any better, nor that his boss was amused by his chit-chat. As opposed to Gregorio, who laughed into her sleeve.

"Sebastian, I need you to track a phone." King said, dead serious.

"Not that I'm not glad that you trust my hacking virtues…" Sebastian made jazz hands, trying to somehow underline the subject, as if the show of hands would make King understand that the young nerd was indeed skilled, and not a mere substitute to Patton. "But… don't we need, like, a warrant?"

"No need to. It's one of ours." King shook his head, erasing an invisible layer of sweat on his head with his hand. "Doc Wade called. Melody said Georgina didn't return home last night after work."

Without waiting an instant, Sebastian forgot all about breakfast, and jumped into the office he usually shared with their regular resident hacker. He logged in, and opened all the right programs, and started the search. He didn't talk, lost in his little bubble, concentrating only on the here and now - on getting the answers they wanted and needed.

"Is her phone still on? Otherwise I can try to turn it once forcibly, or at least approximately triangulate her last position."

"Melody said she tried it and rang, but went to voicemail after a couple of rings."

"Okay, try it, then. If it's on, finding it should be easier."

King nodded and did as he was told. Gregorio looked at him open-mouthed and still shocked. "Any idea how many hours she's been missing?"

"Too many." King answered, tightening his teeth as he listening to the phone ringing and going to voicemail. "At least twelve hours. Melody went to bed thinking that Georgina was running late, but this morning she hadn't showed up yet. Loretta said that she left work over twelve hours ago."

"Which means that the window is closing rather quickly." Gregorio sighed, hands on her hips as she stared at the huge monitor before her, at lines of code she barely understood. "Twelve hours is a long time, Pride. A lot of things can happen in that time…"

"I know, Gregorio. Trust me, you don't need to tell me." Pride sighed as well, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes.

"I know you do, I'm just saying that the majority of missing people get injured during that time frame, so having heard it before…"

"She couldn't know!" King hissed at low voice, turning to face Gregorio with bloodshot eyes. Gregorio took a step back and lowered her head like a child scolded by her disappointed parent. "Sebastian?"

"Yeah, one minute… This is an exact science and exact sciences take time. Besides, I can't will the computer to run faster." Sebastian looked sideways at the screen, sighing, annoyed with the piece of the equipment. It felt like an eternity was passing, and yet, when bright red writing and a blinking dot appeared, it hadn't been that long at all. "Okay, her phone seems to be in Toulouse Street, a few steps from the station."

"Damn it. She was practically home. Toulouse Station is her usual tram stop, right?"

King nodded. He put a hand on Sebastian's shoulder, and squeezed it. "Good work, Sebastian. Gregorio and I will check the area surrounding Toulouse Station, looking for clues. Meanwhile, call any hospital, police district, anything you can think of, and see if they've got anyone matching her description." He quickly left the room, just to come back like a tornado, with a framed image in hands; it was a wedding picture that Christopher had on his desk - his little family finally happy. "In case someone needs a recent picture…"

In silence, King left the building, followed by Gregorio, and in the same silence they climbed into the man's old car, en route to Toulouse.

"Aren't we going to call LaSalle?" Gregorio asked repeatedly. "Pride, we should call him and let him know what's going on. He has a right to…"

But King shook his head.

"Christopher and Sonja are going to be back in a matter of hours. As soon as we'll learn anything, I'll take a chopper and go talk with him myself."

"If it were Linda or Rita you'd want to know if they were missing right away."

King didn't give Gregorio an answer. He simply hid his eyes behind his dark lenses, clenching his hands around the wheel, so much that his knuckles turned white. He knew that Gregorio was right- knew that this case was hitting so close to home and he wasn't thinking clearly.

He had been a cop long enough to know all of it, and the same could be said about Christopher. Right now, there was nothing his boy could do, high at sea. As soon as they knew anything, he'd make sure to let LaSalle know. But not before. He didn't want his boy to get worried. Chris had gone from immature boy to a good and dedicated cop, to a broken-hearted, revenge-fuelled madman to a family man who didn't deserve what was happening to him. Pride wasn't an idiot - he knew what Chris would think as soon as he learned of Georgie's whereabouts; his mind would go back to those dark days after he had lost Savannah, when Baitfish had murdered her in cold blood, retaliating for the NCIS investigations on organized crime in NOLA.

No, there was definitely no reason at all to worry Chris now- not when maybe, just maybe, nothing was wrong at all.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

 **Notes:** written for the het_bigbang on Livejournal. Thanks to **red_b_rackham** for beta-reading _and_ editing. Girl, you rock!

* * *

"Okay, now you tell me how we are supposed to find a phone around here…"

His eyes still hidden by the sunglasses, King smirked and chuckled a little at Gregorio's semi-exasperated expression. He took OUT his phone and dialled Georgie's number, looking around with open ears to pick her ringtone.

"Smooth…" Gregorio shook her head, smiling, as she tried to concentrate on picking the sound.

It wasn't easy, not when Toulouse Station was already filled with stressed people, everyone running and busy with their ordinary existences. The station and the streets surrounding it weren't merely lively- they were like a cacophony of sounds, accents and languages. Before the divorce - before Katrina - Gregorio had lived in New Orleans herself, and like King always said, everyone knew everyone. But come Spring Break - or God save them, the carnival - everything changed. People arrived from the whole country - heck, the whole world - and the city turned into a small Babel, a place where her own inhabitants felt like fishes out of water.

At a certain point, King took off his glasses, and narrowed his eyes, trying to see better. He started to walk quickly, almost running, to the place where he could hear the phone ringing. He came face-to-face with a young boy, little more than a teenager, playing the guitar under one of the vaults of the beautiful retro station. At his feet, he had the open case of his guitar, with some bills in it, and next to it, a carefully folded trench coat - the source of the insistent ringing.

King ended the call, and slowly approached the young man, smirking. Despite the ongoing investigation, his musical spirit briefly took over; the kid was talented, quick with his fingers, elegant, and he mixed easy and difficult passages together, making music that was unique and beautiful. From the look of him, his music was his life- a quick glance at his fingers revealed callouses - and how he survived. He didn't look homeless - just one of the many struggling musicians who filled the streets of New Orleans, like his mother and her mother before her had been.

"Nice. Self- taught?" King asked as soon as the boy finished his number.

The kid bowed his head, smiling to the people who showed their appreciation by giving him something. He put his money in a well-worn wallet, and he nodded.

"Sweet." said King. "You know, the likes of Eric Clapton, Bowie, and Hendrix learned guitar on their own, too."

"Bowie learnt _everything_ on his own, man. You name an instrument, he taught himself to play it. Man was a bloody genius, if you ask me." The boy smiled slyly, arranging his guitar case on his right shoulder, and took the still folded coat in hands. "Even if, myself, I'm quite partial to Noel Gallagher. Not exactly an example of virtue, but you know what they say, genius and unruliness, right?"

"Speaking of which…" Still smirking, trying to put the boy at ease, King presented his shiny badge. "NCIS, Special Agent Pride. That trench coat, where did you find it?"

The boy nervously scratched the back of his head and his arm. Biting his lips, he glanced around, like he was looking for an exit, or an excuse - which one, King wasn't sure.

"Listen, man, I didn't do anything, all right? She lost it yesterday as her man was dragging her back home, and, well, she had been plenty of nice with me, so I thought, why not keep it? In case she'd be back."

King and Gregorio exchanged worried and surprised looks.

"I didn't do anything, I swear! She lost it on her own. And anyway, it's just a coat!"

"The woman who lost the coat, is she the one in this picture?" Gregorio asked, taking the lead and showing the young man a series of pictures on her phone - snapshots stolen from Christopher's desk back at work.

"Yeah, that's her." The boy nodded. "She wasn't very elegant, very casual, but yeah, that's definitely her. Why, what happened? Is she all right?"

"We don't know yet." King paused, hands on his hips. "You mentioned a man?"

"Uhm, yes, but I didn't see him in the pictures. At least, I don't think so. But, he was very tall. Lean. Spoke with an Irish accent, I think? But more than that, I can't really say. He was wearing a baseball cap, and I couldn't really make him. I was in full swing, and there were a lot people, but yeah, I'm pretty sure of it. I mean, he even spoke with me, you know?"

"Why did you think it was her husband?" Gregorio wondered, trying to be as gentle as possible, trying to use as much tact as she could, considering that she didn't have a lot to begin with. Making an enemy of this kid was pointless. Besides, she hardly believed he was directly involved with whatever could have happened to their friend.

The kid shrugged. "That's what he said - and she seemed to recognize him. He even called her by her name - Anne, I think? Or maybe Annie… She started to, you know, wobble, like she had too much to drink, and he helped her to walk away, said she couldn't hold her liquor and liked wine too much…"

King scrolled through his phone to find a new picture to show the young, struggling musician, their sole witness up to that point. "Could it be him?" King asked

The kid shook his head. He was sorry, and felt bad, that much King could tell looking into his dark eyes.

"No, I don't think so. I mean, I didn't see his face, but he wasn't so well-built."

"Thanks. Listen, we need to take the coat. But if you remember something else, give me a call." King handled one of his card to the boys. "Or drop by a bar in the French quarter called _Charity for All._ If I'm not there, there's a lot of good people covering for me, all right?"

They retrieved the coat, and as they walked back to King's car, he handled it over to Gregorio. She tried to be as delicate and as gentle as possible, knowing all too well how simple it was that any evidence on the piece of clothing could already been ruined.

"The guy in the ID picture you showed the kid, who was that?" She asked.

"Detective Keith Trevor, Vice. He's Caitlin's birth father. He and Georgina broke up before she knew she was expecting. He renounced his rights so that Christopher could formally recognize the kid, but, still…" King paused, pinching the bridge of his nose and turning on his old, classic car. "Better safe than sorry, right?"

"So, what are you going to do now?" Gregorio faced him, worried.

King checked his wristwatch without a grain of serenity in him, and taking a big breath, he answered her.

"I'm going to take a chopper. And tell one of my men that his wife has been kidnapped."


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

 **Notes:** written for the het_bigbang on Livejournal. Thanks to **red_b_rackham** for beta-reading _and_ editing. Girl, you rock!

* * *

"I'll never leave this ship too early. I swear, when I was undercover with the cartel and biker gangs, I've met less smelly people." Sonja Percy wrinkled her nose. "I mean, sometimes navy men can be walking clichés… Just because you're not surrounded by women to court, it doesn't mean you have to go all Neanderthal and forgo all the basic rules of hygiene, right?"

As they walked side by side on the bridge of the _USS Enterprise_ , Sonja made a disgusted noise. Christopher grinned, amused; he had always liked Sonja. At one point, he had even thought that they could have been much more than just good friends, though nothing had ever come out of it.

Lately, he had come to appreciate her even more; Sonja was a good friend, a shoulder he could lean on, someone willing to hear him out and call him on his bullshit. King was a good listener, but he tended to believe in things working out on their own eventually. He rarely gave active advice because he thought people should work hard to achieve anything they wanted- he was the complete opposite of Sonja who, despite her shard comments and tough gal mask, was a natural born caregiver.

"I don't know- I'm pretty sure I saw worse." Christopher chuckled and playfully elbowed her in the side.

"Oh, really? And where, by all means? In your long career in Vice, maybe?" Sonja snickered, elbowing Chris back; just a glance, and Christopher knew what was going through the woman's head – that his career in Vice had been more about glitter and spotlight than getting dirty and lurking in the shadows of the post-Katrina New Orleans landscape- the complete opposite of what she used to do with ATF. Sonja was a good friend, but sometimes she just wasn't fair. Yes, they didn't just come from different law enforcements agencies, but from extremely different backgrounds, too, but just because he came from what she mockingly called "Oil Royalty", it didn't mean that his life had been a big bed of roses.

Chris sighed, dramatically.. "A few weeks ago, Georgie's old partner from the FBI came to visit; he had just gone undercover as some kind of voodoo master priest or something like that, and he smelled like he had just left Woodstock - actually, I'm pretty sure that the only reason he came to visit was because he was in dire need of warm food."

"My, my, my… Do I detect some jealousy, special agent LaSalle?"

Chris shook his head, clenching his teeth. "Nah, they're not like that... Michael's kind of like a younger brother to her. Besides, my beloved wife likes her men with some backbone, which the lapdog lacks. Like, completely."

"Is it me, or don't you like the guy?" she asked, clearly confused. Everybody knew that Chris was a simple guy who liked everyone and wasn't easy or quick to judge. This guy had to be different.

"Oh, no, you're right. I could never stand him. But that's nothing new - he was already an ass ten years ago, when we got the first case together, and I was fresh meat at NCIS." Chris suddenly stopped where he was, and he grimaced.

"Sorry, "he said. "Bad choice of words. I didn't mean any disrespect."

Differently from many people, Sonja was serious about being Vegan, and she truly believed in this choice she had made after a disastrous break-up. Chris had mocked her in the past - mostly by inviting her over when he went fishing- and he probably thought that, by getting married, he had become a little wiser. Only, he seemed to still run his mouth.

"None taken. I got what you mean. Ehy, look - is that our chopper?" Sonja lifted her chin at the incoming chopper.

The vehicle landed safely on the deck of the carrier, and even though the blades were still moving, King quickly and carefully climbed out, sunglasses on. They watched him approach, wearing an expression they couldn't help but dislike - something that screamed danger and bad news.

"Something's wrong, King?" Chris asked. A thin layer of cold sweat gathered on his sun-kissed skin.

King sighed and took off his glasses facing the man who had at been at his side the longest.

"What's going on?" Sonja asked, her voice uncertain.

Pride sighed, running a hand through his short, grey hair.

"I need your help, and I need you to keep your heads cool." He said. King suspired, his eyes low, and through his silence, they knew something was wrong. He was keeping something from them- for fear of hurting one or both of them, clearly. They knew that King, sometimes, kept thing from himself, but it was always for their own good, as stupid as it sounded. This time, though, it was clearly heaving down on him, if his physical language was of any indication. "Georgie's been kidnapped. She left work yesterday and never made it home. Melody reported her missing early this morning, when she saw that she hadn't taken Caitlin."

Chris' eyes prickled with tears. He was strung tight as a violin cord, his teeth clenched, and he wanted to hit something – anything - and hope that the pain would bring him back to reality. That he would wake up and be in bed with his wife, already awake and watching him sleep with her big dreamy eyes.

"Christopher, I need you to think," King said, brining Chris back to the present. "Was she worried about something? Or, did something strange happened? Like, odd mail or, someone following you…?"

Chris shook his head. "No. Nothing strange happened."

"What about Hamilton? You've cleared the mayor yet?" Sonja wondered, her arms crossed,

King nodded, sighing again. But they all knew it couldn't be the case: Georgie's been missing for over twenty-four hours. _Had_ Hamilton actually done it, they would know it already. He was too sloppy. He was so full of himself that he couldn't even _think_ that he could actually make mistakes- that something could lead back to him.

"No suspicious activity on that front." King confirmed. "For once, it's not him."

"So, the trail's gone cold? That's what you are saying?" Chris demanded. Hate and rage welled inside him like never before. like His blood was ran cold, knowing that he had been on this bloody ship, talking with people- and making fun of everyday life with Percy. And meanwhile… meanwhile, his daughter's mother, his wife, was lost. She had been taken God only knew where by someone who could have been hurting her in that very instant… _if_ she was still alive.

If her fate wasn't already the same as Savannah's.

He hated whoever had dared to do this to them. But for a very long moment that lasted like an eternity, he hated King even more for not having called him home as soon as they knew what had happened. It was stupid, and wasn't going to do any of them any good, but he couldn't help himself. Chris tightened his fists at his sides until he left bloody indentations in his sun-kissed, calloused hands.

King shook his head, watching Chris with a clear understanding. "I'm saying we go back home, and go through all her cases, and all of yours. When a cop gets taken out in the streets, it's never casual. It's someone from either of your pasts - likely someone you put behind bars. _This_ is where we start from - by working the case and learning things. And by not leaving anyone out of the investigation."

Christ nodded dutifully and followed King on the chopper, but he wasn't really listening to anything his boss was saying. Wasn't even sure what he was agreeing to. All he could think about was the day he had found Savannah's lifeless body on the kitchen floor, how scared he was that he would go home to find yet another bloody reminder of his fragile humanity.

After the loss of his beloved, Christopher had turned into the shell of himself. He had become empty, a man who liked to party hard, and drink even more so, a womanizer with a different woman in his arms every night, all faceless, all nameless. Georgina and Caitlin had showed him that moving on was possible, and that he could be the kind of man he had always craved to be - the kind of boy his mama was proud to call her son.

Until Georgina, he hadn't believed that it possible to love so much twice in his lifetime. Georgina had dragged him back into the light and healed him with her love. But if something was to happen to her, Christopher didn't think he was strong enough to survive that kind of loss again. If he were to lose her, too… There would be no coming back this time around, no matter what.

Christopher LaSalle had survived the loss of the love of his life once already. He simply couldn't do it again.

This time, he already felt broken beyond repair.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

 **Notes:** written for the het_bigbang on Livejournal. Thanks to **red_b_rackham** for beta-reading _and_ editing. Girl, you rock!

* * *

"Ehy, listen.." Sonja said. She stood by the cardboard boxes filled with casefiles around her desk, her eyes focused on Christopher.

He was trying to concentrate on everyone _he_ had messed with in the past who might be on the lookout for him or his family, but he just couldn't. There was too much going on - besides, where was he supposed to look? He had been doing this job for far too long - first with the New Orleans Polices Department, and later with NCIS. With almost fifteen years of police work under his belt, he had sent so many people to jail - and that was not counting the people he had just pissed off without arresting (such as Mayor Hamilton). Or the relatives and friends of people he had "wronged" by merely doing his duty.

"Around the time of Katrina…" said Sonja. "Did you already know Georgie?" She looked at the papers before her, trying to find a solution to their problem.

Chris joined her at her desk and stared down at the papers, trying to see what she did, but he was failing to. He wanted - _needed_ \- to get a lead. Another day had passed, and the only thing they knew for sure was that Georgina had been actually abducted. If their only witness was to be believed, whoever had done it had somehow drugged her to make sure she wouldn't have put up a fight.

"No." Christopher answered. "Back then I was working Vice. I didn't have a lot of occasions to cross paths with the FBI. I met her a couple of years later, after I started working here. But I'm pretty sure that King already knew her back then. Why do you ask?"

For a moment, Sonya seemed to struggle with what to say next, then, finally, she asked, "Is this everything? Isler didn't say anything about files gone lost during the flooding, did he?"

Gregorio looked up and shook her head. "As far as I know, that's the entirety of her work for the FBI New Orleans Office. At least, that's what Isler claims. Why?"

"Okay… listen… would anyone know if she had taken a sabbatical at the time?"

Chris planted his hands on his sides. "She never mentioned it. But, we didn't know each other back then, and it's not like we're aware of every single free day we took since we started working."

"Yes, but…" Sonja lowered her voice, and nibbled at her bottom lip. "We are talking about _over thirteen months_ here, not two weeks to sunbathe in Miami during Spring Break."

Gregorio lifted an eyebrow. "Could it have been when her husband…" she began, and glanced at Chris. _He_ was Georgie's husband, now. "Could it have been when her first husband died?"

Sonja shook her head, but Chris spoke first. "No. Noah died over three years before Katrina - I know she took some time off back then. Two months."

"And there's no way she has gone over one year without cases. She worked Robbery and Homicide at the FBI. If anything, she would have worked _too much_. Trust me, I know a couple of things about that." Gregorio intervened. As a former FBI agent herself, she knew what she was talking about.

"Right, but…" Sonja lifted one finger to add emphasis to her words. "What if it's something that she _couldn'_ t put in a report? The musician said that the guy who took Georgie called her Annie. Maybe it's because that's how he knew her…"

"You think it's connected to some undercover job she did?" Chris asked, and Sonja nodded.

" _Deep_ undercover job. When we met she asked me if I'd ever gone rogue, and… I don't think she was just curious. There was… something in her voice, how she wasn't looking at me…"

"You think Newman had gone rogue in the past?" They turned when they heard King's voice at their backs.

He leaned on the kitchen's doorframe, hands in the pockets of his light brown pants. He still wore the same light blue polo he had been wearing the day before- which meant he hadn't slept or changed either, even though his bedroom was in the same building .

"If she took some undercover job around the time of Katrina," King said slowly, joining Chris at Sonja's desk. "Then there's one person who knows it for sure: Michael Rawson."

"Who?" Sonja wondered. "Wait a minute… _she_ worked with him, right? You mentioned him the other day, on the _Enterprise_ … and I think I may have seen his name on few of her reports from the FBI…" Sonja checked the papers, like she wanted to make sure she wasn't making any mistake.

Chris acquiesced, exhaling. The memory wasn't too pleasant. "He was her partner. She still treats him like her work husband after all these years. Not sure how they started working together, though, or when. They've always been kind of vague about that."

Gregorio narrowed her eyes. "Rawson? As in Mick Rawson, Special Agent Mick Rawson?"

"Friends of yours?" Sonja tapped her pen on the desk, and instead of answering, Gregorio shook her head, chuckling lightly.

Chris stared at the former FBI agent, and he thought he recognized that expression. "You having some of your profiler intuitions?" he asked. "What are you thinking about?"

"I'm just thinking that there are not a lot of former British Military joining the FBI, and when it happens, it's never by chance…" Gregorio turned back to King. "And the musician did say that guy had an Irish accent…"

"Nah." Chris said "It can't be him. I may not know him too well, but he doesn't look like a psycho. He is… a normal guy. From what Georgina told me, he seems very protective of her – like she was his little sister."

"Ok, then maybe it's nothing." Sonja relented. "Maybe Katrina was just too stressful for her and she thought she couldn't handle it, so she took some time off."

"You know, I was close to taking leave myself at the time, and it's not like I'm proud of it or I tell people that all I wanted to do was run away." Chris butted in. "Maybe there's no dark secret or hidden agenda here. Let me ask Ellie what she knows, all right?"

"Yes, but let's say that her sister corroborates the story she took a sabbatical." Gregorio said, hands on her hips, focusing her glare on Chris. "Still, mind explaining me how comes there's no paperwork?"

"It was 2005, Gregorio." Chris snapped. He wasn't an idiot, he was aware that Gregorio considered him childish and naïve. But it wasn't like he thought that Georgina was perfect or infallible. It was far from it. Still, he _knew_ his wife - and he _trusted_ her. "You were here, too. Or were you and your husband too busy living the high life that you don't remember what kind of damages Cindy, Katrina and Rita did? Paperwork got lost, or was never filled because there was just no time, or people. It doesn't mean my wife did something secret or wrong."

"Whoa, calm down, LaSalle." Sonja said gently, and held her hand out to his chest to calm him down. "We're not saying she did something wrong. But I've been undercover. There were times when I went months without telling my family what I was truly doing or where I actually was."

"Sonja's right, Chris." King intervened, taking a step forward. "Let's hear the sister out, let's hear from Rawson, and have Sebastian check her computer and her phone with her provider. I've called Patton. He's coming back to lend us a hand. Maybe this is nothing, buy maybe it could be a lead, all right?"

King bowed his head at his people. They didn't need to hear it twice. They knew what they had to do now.

Over two hours later, Sonja was still trying to make some sense of the cases Georgie had been working on. She tried to see connections and clues, if there were any, and if an "Annie" was ever mentioned. She huffed, her eyes half-closed, but lifted her head at the sound of someone clearing their throat. She met the bluest pair of eyes she had ever seen on any man in her whole life.

"Agent Percy, right? SSA Mick Rawson, FBI." The stranger, with a British accent, chuckled charmingly.

She offered her hand and he squeezed it with the kind of strength that came from being ready and sure, and wasn't a show of brute force.

He lowered his voice and asked, "Agent Gregorio called me about Newman. Any news?"

Sonja wasn't a profiler like Gregorio, but by working undercover as long as she had, she had learned to read people. Rawson wasn't lowering his voice out of courtesy; it was more like a defense mechanism, like he was struggling with the knowledge that his former partner - a dear friend, according to Chris - was in danger.

"No," Sonja answered grimly.

He still held her hand, like he wasn't aware he had forgotten to let go, his mind in some other world. Worry lines creased his forehead and her reminded her of Chris: scared as hell for the destiny of a person he cared so much about.

"Listen," said Rawson. "If there's something I can do to help, anything, let me know."

"Thanks." Sonja gave his hand a gentle shake and he finally released her with a hasty apology.

"How's Christopher doing?" he asked.

Sonja circled her desk, indicating the garden outside. Sitting at the table was King, Chris and, in her carrier, Caitlin. Melody had brought her by in an attempt to cheer up Chris. Ellie, Georgie's sister, was on her way from Los Angeles and hadn't arrived yet.

"LaSalle is doing his best to keep Cait quiet and happy," Sonja explained. She looked at the stranger, wondering how much she was supposed to share with him- how much she was supposed to _trust_ him. "But he is devastated. He… Hadn't had an easy life." There was no need to tell him that Chris' former girlfriend had been murdered in cold blood by a guy they were after, or how hard it had been for him to get closer to someone again - and allow someone back in his life. _Of course_ he was scared to lose the love of his life all over again. They all were scared for Georgie – and how Cait could pay the biggest prize.

Mick watched King and Chris; the latter was doing his best to make little Cait happy. He smiled at her - as much as he could - but even to an outsider it was clear that his smile didn't reach his eyes. Caitlin was almost 15 months. Sonja wondered if she could tell that something was wrong, that her mummy wasn't there with them and that it was driving her dad crazy.

Sighing, and looking at the screen where Newman's ID picture stood, Mick gently spoke to Sonja. "You ask me, everyone around here seems to be getting a little crazy."

"Do we have any reason to?" she inquired, rising an eyebrow. defensive. They were doing everything possible and some more, they had even called him in, hoping that he could know something.

"You know, Petal, I have an idea of what's going through that pretty head of yours. I know your mate LaSalle doesn't exactly like me. Not that I know why- it's not like Newman and I have ever been together. But here, she is the closest thing I have to family. I don't care what you or your people think - I'll do anything to get her back." He smirked, winking. "Besides, some ten years ago your Georgie took a bullet for me. Time I pay her back, don't you think?"

Clenching her teeth, Sonja resisted the instinct to call him names. She returned her attention to Chris, and only when Mick cleared his throat, he pulled her away from her own thoughts.

"Gregorio said you couldn't find any evidence," he said. "How the hell is it possible that there's nothing there?"

"Whoever it is, he is very good at hiding his tracks." Sebastian said, leaning against Sonja's desk, massaging his tired eyes. Both Mick and Sonja turned to face the youngster. They had been so lost in their debate they hadn't noticed he was there with them. "Patton and I have been looking at every camera and every angle we could find for the last three days but he did a really good job of avoiding cameras. Even when we can find him on the video, he's been able to hide his face."

"Yeah," Sonja said.

She cast a look at the papers spread across her desk, searching for the only real clue they'd been able to get from this whole ordeal so far - something that was close to nothing, in her opinion.

"The only person who saw him briefly was this musician that Georgie was listening to," Sonja continued. "But the kidnapper never took his hat off. All we know is that he probably had an Irish accent, if the guitarist is right, and that Georgie didn't struggle as he kidnapper dragged her away."

"She didn't struggle? She went with him on her own accord?" Mick asked. He seemed, if nothing else, surprised that their friend hadn't tried to fight her opponent off.

"Nah, I think she didn't struggle because she _couldn't_. Here," Sebastian hurried to his and Patton's desk in the back, and returned with his tablet, almost like he was a speedster from a TV show or a comic book. With sweaty fingertips, he searched for a file, and connected the device with the monitor to show everyone what he had seen.

"She was… wobbling," he said, pointing to the screen. "Like she was drunk and that is _exactly_ what the musician said. Only, we know that's it's not possible because I've never seen Georgie drinking more than, like, half a glass of wine. Besides, up until few minutes before, she had been with Loretta, and she was normal. And, I've looked everywhere, but I haven't seen anywhere entering a bar or a club or anything."

"You think he drugged her. That's the reason she didn't fight back." Rawson swallowed hard. It wasn't a question, it was an affirmation. One which scared and got them worried. If this guy had drugged Newman, it meant that he wanted her alive for something. In their line of work, that something was never good.

Sonja frowned, voicing what everyone was probably thinking at that moment. "It means that, as we suspected, she didn't go with someone she knew and trusted. It could literally be anyone - especially someone with a vendetta. And with twenty years in the force, she's probably gathered a lot of enemies." She pushed her fingers through her hair. "We've already been looking through all of her cases and haven't really found anything, but… I gotta be honest here. We don't know where to look."

"Oh, Patton checked," said Sebastian. "She made over 6,125 arrests in twenty years. Well, actually, it's nineteen years, because there's the business of the missing thirteen months and three weeks where she seemed to have actually vanished from the face of the planet. Only, that's not possible, which means she probably _was_ on sabbatical, even if there's no paperwork that says that she was actually on one." Sebastian rhythmically tapped his fingertips on the hardwood desk as he rambled, looking intently at Rawson.

Rawson chuckled, shaking his head. Sebastian chewed his lips, like he was a curious boy, while Sonja glared at him pointedly, with a raised eyebrow and crossed arms. They had danced around the issue at hand since he arrived, but now it was time to show the Brit what exactly they wanted and needed from him.

"Have you checked the alibi or her ex?" Rawson suggested. "Caitlin's biological father. He wouldn't be the first scorned lover coming back with a vengeance. Not that he cared particularly about her, mind you, but one can never be too sure."

King entered the office area, overhearing the last part of the conversation. "It may come as a surprise, Mister Rawson," he said. "But even if we are not FBI, we do know how to do our work. First thing we did was check Detective Trevor's alibi and see if he had been in contact with any person of interest or Newman herself. He's clear."

King stopped in front of Rawson, grinning like the cat that got the canary, hands in his pockets.

"Now, we are checking into all of her cases, but if you know of something that happened during those thirteen months she went away, we need to know."

Rawson took a big breath and scratched the back of his head nervously. He grabbed a cigarette from his pocket - even though it wasn't allowed to smoke there and he started to play with it. "Listen, even if there was something to say - which I'm not admitting - there's a good chance that I wouldn't be allowed to say it anyway."

Sonja looked at Pride. Rawson wasn't admitting anything, but his phrasing said a lot more than what was actually leaving his mouth.

"Rawson, I could tell you that I'd get you kicked out of the Country if something happens to Newman because you refused to help us out." King stared Rawson down, then softened. "But I'm not going to. You want to know why? Because I know you care about her. You'd be heartbroken too, if Newman were to die or to disappear."

Rawson relaxed a little, but King didn't take his searching gaze away.

"So far, the only thing we've got is a name," he continued "Annie. Does it ring any bell at all?"

Rawson flinched. Just a little, but they all saw it. He gulped, unable to meet their eyes. It took a long moment before he spoke, his voice low.

"Newman had worked over 4000 cases in her career," Rawson said. "I can't know of every Anna, Annabeth or Annie she had ever met in twenty years on the force."

"The man who took Georgina?" Gregorio interjected, finally joining in the conversation. "He called her Annie. And I'm not an idiot, Rawson. I've worked and trained with the BAU. That name means something to you. Now, either you tell us or we can see what a charge of obstruction does to your career and your green card."

Rawson sighed, pinching the bridge on his nose with the same fingers holding the cigarette. He rolled his eyes, giving into their pressure. Rawson looked at each agent in turn, and swallowed hard. He inhaled deeply, readying himself – and maybe the team, too.

"Annie wasn't exactly someone we were investigating on. It was short for Annabeth, as in Annabeth Lourdes. _The_ Annabeth Lourdes."

"Annabeth Lourdes? Seriously?" Sonja looked at him like she meant business, not believing a word he was saying. "I've heard of her back when I was with ATF. She's just a bogeyman. There's not even a picture of her out there."

But Rawson shook his head. "Lourdes was an identity created by Interpol. There hasn't been only one Annabeth Lourdes, but at least four or five that I know of. Newman's just been one of them."

Sonja scratched her head and glanced at Gregorio's perplexed expression. "It's not so out there, now that he says it," Sonja admitted. "ATF too has developed multiple aliases and dummy internet accounts to monitor suspicious activity and lure criminals in."

Rawson cleared his throat and continued. "Back in 2005, I was still in the military in Britain. I was investigating the disappearance of a cargo full of automatic weapons destined for the SAS. Some appeared here in the States in the hands of one of your Militias, the Viper Reserves. Nobody talked, but evidence suggested that their leader had traveled shortly before in North Ireland…"

King lifted an eyebrow, guessing where the Brit was going. "2005 is a bit too late for IRA, Agent Rawson, if this is where you are getting at."

Rawson shook his head. "IRA officially finalized its ceasefire in 1997, but by then, it was well known that the organization was the real deal - a professional, dedicated and highly skilled force. The other republican groups, though, were a little more than a collection of gangsters. When the IRA formally disarmed in the late 2004, several splinter groups had already emerged, while other parties have… let's say gone their merry way."

Rawson paused, tossing his unused cigarette in the trash.

"We believed that one of these groups had become a prominent figure in the weapon trafficking, and we were trying to stop them and their leader – a Tobias MacAulay- once and for all. After the whole deal with the militia, though, Interpol and FBI had to get involved, and they decided to try to lure him out. They used Annabeth Lourdes as a bait."

Sonja and Gregorio exchanged concerned looks as they listened to Rawson talk.

"We thought it would have been easy," he went on. "Just an hit and run. It would have taken a couple of weeks, at worst. But MacAulay, he took a fancy to Annabeth. He wanted to wine and dine her, impress her. He fell hard for dear Annie. Interpol asked Newman to keep her cover, and take advantage of the situation."

"I don't like where this is going." Gregorio whispered, readying them for the rest of the story.

"Newman stayed with him for over a year. She got worried when he started talking about starting a family, wanting to have an heir to the business. Said her name would help, that she was legendary." Rawson scrubbed his hand over his face. "That was when we arranged to bring her out. We apprehended "Annabeth", and simulated her death, so that no one could suspect she was a cop. But… it don't think it could be MacAulay. He never knew the truth. As far as he is concerned, she died during a prison transportation, and my sources told me he died last year. Cardiac arrest."

Gregorio opened her mouth, but Sonja stopped her before she could speak. They really didn't need her to remember them that she had seen it coming. "Don't. Georgie was deep undercover. She did what she had to, to survive, and to bring down a man who, for all intents and purposes, was a terrorist. We've all been there." She eyed her team. " _All_ of us. We've all done thing we're not proud of. Georgie's not any different."

"Well, I say, better safe than sorry." King said, taking his gun from his drawer. "Sebastian, get me something on this Tobias MacAulay- anything you can find on him and his people. Aliases, connections, addresses. I any of his Irish men is here in the States, or may have any kind of contact here, I want to know. Meanwhile, Gregorio and I will try a different angle."

"Which is…" Percy inquired, while Gregorio was already grabbing her service weapon from her desk, King busy doing the same.

"We are going to State Pen. What our Agent Rawson here said, it got me thinking, and I remembered something." King explained, sniggering. "Few years ago, we took down a brunch of the Militia here in New Orleans. They were well organized. Their goal was to unite all the different factions and bring the fight to Washington and take control of the Country. The Viper Reserves happened to be one of those cells."

"I any of them serving time here?" Rawson questioned.

King shook his head. "I'm not sure. _But_ we have one of the heads of the Militia - Troy Spooner. I was undercover in his group. When he found out I was a cop, he put a price on my head. He even tried to get my daughter kidnapped." He paused, closing his eyes for a moment. " I know for a fact that he spent time with the Vipers at his base. _A lot of time._ "

"If Spooner liked the Vipers so much back then, maybe he's still in contact with them." Gregorio wondered.

King nodded, the keys of his car in hand. "People looks for help where they know they'll get it – from people who owes them. If someone from MacAulay's gang is here, it's likely they went to the only ally here in the States – the Vipers. Even if Spooner doesn't know anything, he could have an idea of who's in the secret. And one way or another, I'll get him to talk."

King's eyes went to Chris, still sat in the garden with his daughter. He swallowed hard, inhaling deeply. "And even if he doesn't know anything… I may just know how shake things up."


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

 **Notes:** written for the het_bigbang on Livejournal. Thanks to **red_b_rackham** for beta-reading _and_ editing. Girl, you rock!

* * *

As soon as Georgie came back to reality, nausea rose in her throat. Her mouth was dry, sticky, and the headache was so strong it was like a wrecking ball hitting her again and again. Trying to open her eyes to the blinding rays of sunshine coming in through the semi-closed old-fashioned blinds, Georgie found herself in an unfamiliar room - it had the familiar smell of the swamp bayous on New Orleans, though.

Slowly, she sat up and found the strength to _really_ look around: she was in a bedroom, still dressed in the clothes she had had on when she had left Loretta's lab. The bad news was that she was handcuffed to the simple metallic bed. Her eyes fell on her wrists, discolored with thin red lines that indicated she had been out for an assuming long time.

Her head still pounding, she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, in and out, trying to calm down the nausea. Eventually, despite the pain in her head, Georgie regained some level of composure. She opened her eyes and tried to understand where she was or what was happening. The air felt dusty – like no one had cleaned up in a long time – and it seemed like the bed was the only piece of furniture there. She though she saw some debris on the floor – or maybe some bricks, she couldn't be sure from her spot.

She did her best to get a grip on her situation, and yet she didn't have a clear idea of what had happened. She remembered walking home from work and that was it. The rest was as thick as fog. She thought she remembered a man, and music… but nothing else. Despite all of her experience, all of her training, she found herself helpless, with no idea of what was happening or why.

Hot tears burned her eyes and she cried quietly, not wanting to alert her captors of her wakefulness yet. Her mind filled with images of her baby girl and of Chris. When had she vanished? Did they already know she was gone? And what was going through _their_ minds?

She wondered if her little girl comprehend what was going on, if she wondered where her mummy had gone. When Georgie's mother had succumbed to sickness and her father had become an empty shell of a human being, Georgie still remembered the sense of abandonment, the feeling of not being wanted – and not being enough for him to stay.

It wasn't rational, and even as an adult, it was hard to explain. It was a memory etched in her bones, under her skin. Maybe it was the ancestral fear of children of being all alone in the world. In that moment, as an unknown fate presented itself before her, she wondered if her daughter was feeling the same sense of loss.

Her thoughts shifted to her beloved Chris.

Chris had been alone for so long in the world, always providing for others but never for himself. He was the rock, the sun around which all the other planets orbited. Before her, he had only truly loved once, and the loss of Savannah had nearly been his downfall. She knew the feeling as she had buried her husband Noah years before, and the memory remained fresh in her mind.

She feared what would happen to Chris if he lost her too.

Would he struggle, like he had done after the loss of his first love? Would he abandon his children to themselves, like her own father did after the loss of _his_ beloved wife?

Georgie wiped her tears on her sleeve and gave her head a shake to clear her mind. Now wasn't the time to get lost in those kinds of worries. She was still alive, which meant that whoever had taken her had done so for a reason. Someone _wanted_ her - maybe even _needed_ her - and she promised to use that to her own advantage.

She knew that statistics weren't exactly on her side - she had worked far too many crimes in her time at Robbery and Homicide to not be prepared for the worst outcome - but she had something that many victims didn't have.

She was a cop.

And one with a damn fine experience on top of it. More than that, she had a whole support system - her own village backing her up. Even though she feared that Chris could get lost in his own pain, oblivious to the rest of the world, King would never allow something bad to happen to one of his people. He would go to hell and back to get justice. She trusted her team, her little surrogate family, implicitly - maybe even more than she trusted Jethro.

They would get her back home, no matter what. They would make sure that Chris was all right, should the worst happen, and that he kept on being the good dad that he was. The amazing dad that he had always been, right from the moment he had learned she was carrying a baby.

Georgie lowered her chin, tears dripped onto her belly. She remembered the first time they had felt her baby kicking together, his gentle and warm touch against the bare skin of her stomach.

Suddenly overwhelmed, she felt like she was floundering. Her breathing grew short and heavy and her vision clouded. Her body ran hot and cold and sweat formed on her face.

A figure slowly approached her in the semi-darkness of the room and Georgie gasped. She tried to say something - maybe even beg – but the words refused to leave her lips.

The stranger cupped her check, with something akin to reverence and sweetness. Then, in complete silence, he pricked her right arm with something sharp. Her arm stung and then she was tired beyond reason. Georgie gulped, and gasped again, as the word went once again dark all around her.

"Well Troy, it's been a long while…"

King almost chuckled as sat before the inmate. Spooner had practically been his nemesis back when he had attempted to run the Militia, going as far as putting prices on both King's head and his daughter, Lauren. But now, with Spooner safely behind bars, all the fringe groups had fallen apart, warring between themselves rather than with the State..

King had to admit, prison was doing good to Spooner. He didn't look like the kind of man who was suffering or going through some big ordeal. In fact, he seemed as much in control as before, if not more. Even his appearance was more well-kept than when King had last seen him, which meant that the rumors were true. Maybe Spooner wasn't guiding his own super-militia any longer, but he was still well-connected and well-supplied. There was a good chance he had intel - the kind that Pride and his people needed right now.

"Can't say I'm happy to see you, but, I thought I'd oblige…" said Spooner, darkly. He showed off his handcuffed hands to his guests. "Since you've been so kind to get rid of that bitch for me. Guess who's back on top with her out of the way, huh?"

"Right," Gregorio said, her arms firmly crossed as she stood against a wall, playing disinterested cop. King did his best to hide a smirk. He knew that, with all of her experience with the FBI, she had seen far worse than this man. But they all were well aware that Spooner, a well-known criminal with a vendetta against him, could be the only way to find a lead to get their missing friend back. "Because you _really_ think that the Militia is here to stay."

Spooner laughed, draping himself over the hard metallic chair. "Doll, say what you want. I'll not stay here for much longer…."

"Bitch, huh?" King said, looking at Gregorio instead of Spooner.

He thought of Spooner's old lawyer - a woman as cold as ice who looked as delicate as a flower, but really was a wild and rabid beast who controlled the Militia under Spooner's nose.

"Well, if you really don't like lawyers so much, maybe we could talk like true southern gentlemen and avoid harassing your counselor…" King offered.

Spooner wasn't an idiot. He wasn't the smartest man in the room, never had been, but he knew enough about people to understand that King needed him. He still held a grudge against this man and his team, however, and would have die before allowing King to forget it.

"Ok, Sunshine," Gregorio snapped. "We know you made business with the Viper Reserves. Either you gave them up or…"

Spooner laughed out loud as soon as Gregorio tried to menace him. He laughed hard and laugh enough that the guard left his post, edging closer to the table, ready to intervene in Spooner tried something. King lifted his hand, reassuring the bald, big guard that everything was under control and his help wasn't needed yet.

"I'm already behind bars, Pride, and with my dear old lawyer dead, I'm back to being the man on top - and my people knows it." Spooner boasted. " _I'm_ the Militia, and there's nothing you can do to stop any of this. Just watch your back, man, because we'll come for you and your people, when you'll least expect it." He smiled, smug and dark, never breaking eye-contact with King.

King smiled. "See you around, Troy." He left the room with Gregorio, who couldn't stop looking quizzically at him.

"Well, I guess it was worth a shot …" she mumbled. "Still, you said you had another idea, if things didn't work out with your bestie?" Her voice was filled with sarcasm. King could understand her frustration, but going hot and cold wasn't going to do them any good. If they wanted to have a chance at getting Georgie back, they needed to focus and stay calm.

Besides, he told her already: he had an idea.

They walked through the sterile corridors of the old penitentiary, home to some of the biggest legends in the New Orleans criminal underworld, stopping every time they came to a gate between two different sectors, showing their badges and repeating their credentials at nausea, talking with so many guards that after a while they all looked the same.

"Care to share what has gotten you oh-so- happy, King?" she demanded, lifting one eyebrow.

King didn't answer, though. He just smiled, putting on his trademark dark sunglasses, and tucked his hands in his pockets. He casually switched directions, as he had done so a million times before. With Gregorio hot on his heels, he strolled towards the courtyard, as if he owned the place, nodding to the few guards they happened to meet in that sector.

He suddenly stopped and looked around. His smirk grew when he saw, in a corner, a guard, busy tending to an inmate occupied with some hefty barbells on a complicated and expensive-looking piece of gym equipment. Shrugging his shoulders, he approached them.

"All right, I need your help," King said tersely. He wasn't talking with the guard as one would have expected, but with _the inmate_ sitting on the exercise bench. The man resembled King in a way that was almost scary. Gregorio glanced between the two men, gulping in the heavy silence, and her face suddenly lightened up.

The man before them was Cassius Pride - King's father and one of the biggest names in the New Orleans crime world's past.

"I've heard that Linda's getting married," said Cassius. "I'm sorry, son. I know you've never fully let it go of her…" The old man let out a heavy sigh. King decided to tough it out. He didn't need his father to remember him that fighting for Linda had been pointless, nor that she was the kind of woman you can't get over. She was the mother of his only child, after all.

King followed his father's faraway gaze, noticing how his attention had suddenly switched, his focus now of Gregorio. She was smirking with a lifted eyebrow.

"Gregorio, this is my infamous father, Cassius." King waved his hand between them. "Dad, this is Special Agent Gregorio, a new addiction to my team."

Without taking his attention away from the Latin beauty, Cassius spoke to his son, smug. "You know son, word is that you're trying to put down the Mayor himself."

King rolled his eyes. "Yes dad, I'm keeping up with the family tradition of the Hamiltons and the Prides trying to tear each other apart. Only difference is that I'm not some excuse of a mob boss nor a murdering Nazi like Detective Hamilton used to be."

"Let me guess," Gregorio put in. "You still knows the ins and outs of this whole city, even in here."

The guard had left them some room, watching from afar, and no one else was in the courtyard. It was a clear indication of Cassius's high status indeed.

"Dad, you know everything that's going in New Orleans. And I gotta tell you, I'm pretty desperate." King levelled his gaze at Cassius. "Someone kidnapped one of my people and I want to get her back to her family. So, just for this once, help me out."

Cassius didn't say anything, he just stared at his son, smug. When he remained silent, King sighed through his nose.

"If you help me get her back, then I'll be at your next parole hearing. And I'll kindly remind the commissioner of the help I've been getting from you over the years."

Cassius shrugged, but he looked pleased. "So, what do you people know so far?" Though it was a question, it seemed like he already knew part of the answer.

"One of my people got kidnapped a couple of days ago." King explained. "We believe it may have something to do with a weapons dealer she put down back in 2005, or some of his affiliates. These guys used to deal with the Viper Reserves, who answer to Spooner, but he hasn't said a lot."

"The Vipers, huh?" said Cassius thoughtfully. "Well, back in the day, before that idiot of Spooner tried to unite all the factions, the Vipers used to work with an IRA splinter cell. Lead by a guy called MacAulay, if I'm not mistaken…"

"You knew him?" King asked, as he sat on his heels, at eye-level with his father.

"I know _of_ him, son. I've been here for far too long for having met in person- But, you know…" He smiled smugly.

Cassius turned serious, looking at his son deeply. He scanned his surroundings like a wounded animal, easy prey. "You know son, speaking of which… I've heard word of a cargo shipment coming in town a couple of weeks ago."

"It was carrying people?" King asked, amazed, but his father pursed his lips in a straight line.

"Not people - _a_ person."

Gregorio frowned. "You must be wrong. MacAulay is dead. We got word from the FBI."

Cassius lifted an eyebrow.. "Would you really want the world to know that you let a criminal mastermind escape jail? Word of the mouth is an Irish guy has landed in town, looking for what was rightfully his…"

Gregorio and King exchanged concerned glances. She put some distance between them, and alerted her team to the news circulating through the criminal underworld. King stayed, sharing worry – and maybe even fear.

"What do you think he wants, dad?"

"Son, if it's really him… He has spent over ten years behind bars thinking about who had put him there, and trust me on this, that's an awful long time. To plan your revenge… to obsess…. and to find a way to get back what has been stolen from you."

"You mean his gang?"

Cassius closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. "Family son," he said with gravity, staring at his son. "Sometimes… often… it's just about family."


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

 **Notes:** written for the het_bigbang on Livejournal. Thanks to **red_b_rackham** for beta-reading _and_ editing. Girl, you rock!

* * *

When she came to again, Georgie gasped and clutched her chest. Her lungs were filled with liquid fire instead of oxygen. Her vision blurred, and she opened and closed her eyes trying to focus. Her wrists were ached and she didn't need to look to know she was still handcuffed to the bed. She sensed someone sitting on the bed at her back. The mattress shifted only slightly - whoever was there had a small and lithe form.

Georgie gulped, steadying her breath. She did her best to look as distant and fearless as possible - things she was far from feeling - when she finally faced _him. S_ he had already seen him the first time she had started to come around, but when the blurry figure had first entered her vision then, she had hoped that it was all in her mind - a sick game the drugs were playing on her.

Now she knew that it hadn't been all a dream, nor some kind of hallucination. It was all terribly true.

"You are still the same, Annie. Even after all these years…." He started to play with a lock of her brown-reddish hair, wrapping it around his index finger. "Except… this. The hair. It used to be black. It made you look so… mysterious, and unattainable…" He inched closer and closer to her, inhaling, trying to breath in her very essence.

"Tobias…" she whispered, trying to not cry, to not show her fear.

Of course she remembered him - he was always in the back of her mind, his memory ready to assault her whenever she wasn't on top of her game. What she remembered most was how he treated his enemies. Tobias was a man of opposites: he could love with all of his heart, like no man before him, and he was capable of the most horrid actions, like he wouldn't have cared at all.

"Twelve years, Annie… I spent over twelve years rotting in that bloody jail, thinking about you…." He pressed his nose in her hair.

Hot tears stung her eyes, and she was paralyzed by the knowledge that she was at his mercy. If he decided to hurt her - to _kill_ her - no one was there to save her.

Tobias took her chin in his calloused hand, and forced her to lift her head and meet his eyes, for the first time since the beginning of this nightmare. Somehow, his expression gave her pause - for as much as she could see hate, she could also see a conflicted man, unable to shake his past once and for all.

Maybe… maybe there was hope, after all. Maybe he didn't _want_ to kill her right away. It would give her plenty of time to think of something to get her out of there.

Tobias forcefully and soundly kissed her forehead, almost as it was a goodbye that was too painful to bear. He left the bed and he was already halfway through the door when he stopped to look at Georgie once more.

"You took away what I loved the most, Annie. I don't know what I'll take from you… but I'll find a way, love. We'll get even. I promise you that."

When the door closed and she was allowed the luxury of solitude, she hugged her knees and sobbed desperately like she never had before. Not even the day she had buried her first husband, Noah.

She wasn't scared for herself, she realized. She knew Tobias- and she still remembered his teachings.

 _If you want to shatter a man… you destroy his family, and leave him to live a lifetime of misery alone, knowing he did it, that it was all because of him._

She was terrified for her family.

So Georgie prayed like she hadn't in years that Tobias was somehow a changed man. That he would whatever he wanted to her, but _not_ her family. She couldn't survive if something happened to Chris or Caitlin. She had survived one loss, buried one husband already, and it had nearly been her downfall. But if it happened again, and all because of her, because she was careless, she would die.

Inside and out.

"Are you going to get mad if I ask you how it's going?"

Chris lifted his gaze from the sleeping form of his baby daughter, peaceful in her carrier, and turned to meet Sonja's worried one. He tried to smile a little, but couldn't.

"Getting her to sleep has been hellish." He glanced at Cait, then returned his attention to Sonja. She looked at him with something akin to pity, and for a split second, he actually hated her. His partner was already thinking he had lost another woman he was in love with. He clenched his fists at his sides.

"Chris…" she said, tenderly, putting her hand on his shoulder. With her voice low like that, she sounded like a mentor. Like he simply had to listen to her and follow whatever advice she was about to offer him. Maybe it had also to do with the use of his given name – a rarity, as she always called him either LaSalle or Christopher.

"Chris, just… Whatever happens, whatever you find out happened in her past, don't get mad at her, all right? She did what she had to, and if…" She stopped and bit her lips, hesitating, like she struggled finding the right words. Sonja was a good friend. She cared about people. Chris knew that she didn't want to hurt him – and yet was scared to. "When you get in a relationship while undercover, it's not for the sake of it. It's something that… it forces you to break in a way. It doesn't mean anything, and yet, it means _everything_."

Christopher sucked in a big breath to clear his fogged mind. "It's just that… when Rawson told us about MacAulay, I felt like I didn't know her. Not like I thought I did, at least."

A worried frown creased her features as Sonja squeezed her partner's shoulder, bringing him back to reality. Chris focused his attention on Sonja's eyes, and wondered if her undercover jobs had been an issue in her past relationships as well. He knew that they needed agents like her and Georgie, because sometimes wearing a shield and asking questions wasn't enough to close a case and save people, and they needed to get dirty to get to the bottom of it.

Chris wasn't a kid, and he had enough years with a badge under his belt to, rationally, know it. He didn't even know what _really_ troubled him, if it was that Georgie – his wife, the mother of his child – had willingly gone there, or if he was mad because he felt betrayed that she hadn't fully shared her past with him.

"Christopher, listen to me. I've been there, all right?" Sonja murmured. Her partner nodded but clenched his fists tighter. "I've been there, and I know that it's not a nice place. It's so dark that… that you're scared of dragging people down there with you, even just by talking about it. Or that you'll stop being yourself and you'll forever be the persona you've transformed yourself into, even in the eyes of the people who are supposed to trust and love you."

Chris let himself fall back into the garden chair, and cast his loving and worried gaze at Caitlin. She was finally asleep, but it didn't take a profiler to know that she _felt_ that something was wrong.

"Have you ever spoken about it with anyone?" he asked.

Sonja hugged her petite frame and went to seat at his side. She put her elbows on the round table, her chin resting on her joined hands, and mumbled her answer under her breath.

"I'm sorry? I'm not sure I got it…" He glanced at her, thankful for the change of subject.

"Fine, I've spoken about it with Gregorio," she admitted, rolling her eyes. "But only because she's been through the same things and I thought she could understand me. I don't think there's something wrong with her - I'm just not into women, that's all."

Chris laughed softly. "Well, she wasn't into women until she divorced her husband. Besides, even Pride roots for you two."

Sonja made a disgusted sound and was opening her mouth as to speak when Gregorio herself arrived in a hurry.

"So, Isler and Rawson gave me access to the FBI files they have on MacAulay," She shuffled the papers in her hands. "Now, this is far from a perfect profile, but," she paused, coming to a stop in front of them. "I think I may know where he is."

"You do?" Chris stood, witch such energy that the chair tumbled to the ground and awoke the baby.

Gregorio nodded. "Now, MacAulay is no idiot, and he likes to play on his own ground. Considering that he doesn't have that many resources at his disposal any longer, and given what I've seen so far, I'd say he's gone somewhere he is familiar with." Her eyes sparkled. "Now, where could that be, here in New Orleans, considering that he has ties with the Militia?"

She smiled, and Chris knew she was right. The nightmare would have ended, once and for all.

"You're kidding." Sonja jumped to her feet, her eyes wide. "You and the Feds think that he may be hiding at the Holly Beach Compound? At the Militia's old base?"

"Well, after all, what better place to hide than in the middle of nowhere, in an abandoned structure?" Gregorio pointed out. "With the Mayor's cuts, there's no security in that area any longer, no one's out there. It's the perfect hiding spot. And if the guy is as well connected with the Militia as we think, it means that there's a good chance he knows its ins and outs of the base."

With his Adam's apple bobbing up and down, Chris glanced between Gregorio and Sonja. His fists stayed clenched at his sides, now to stop them from shaking. He swallowed hard, wanting to get Georgie back as soon as possible. He was tired of people pitying him. He had sat long enough on the sidelines. Now, no matter what, he wanted to be part of the action, and be there to save his wife, as soon as possible. He knew that rushing into things was never a good idea, but he needed to get her home, away from that madman.

He ran hot and cold, remembering waking up to Georgie sweetly gazing at him. Both he and Cait needed her, and he couldn't imagine spending another night wondering about the kinds of danger she was facing.

"Well, what are we waiting for, then?" he demanded.

"Nothing." Gregorio sounded optimistic, though there was still some stress in her cadence. "King's waiting for us there."

"Then," Sonja murmured. "I say we go and save our girl."


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

 **Notes:** written for the het_bigbang on Livejournal. Thanks to **red_b_rackham** for beta-reading _and_ editing. Girl, you rock!

* * *

Georgie finally started to get a little better. Her vision slowly cleared and the nausea abated, but she still lacked any strength. Tobias rushed into the room, sweating, his veins pulsating, his eyes huge and panicked. He looked more like an animal than the refined man she had met so many years before.

She gulped when he quickly approached the bed. She tried to question him as he undid her restrains, but he didn't reply. Instead, he carelessly threw her in the corner of the darkened room. Trembling, she made herself small, terrified of the possessed man before her. Tobias wasn't in control any longer, and whatever he had had planned for them, it wasn't coming to fruition.

She closed her eyes and said a silent prayer to a God she had talked with too little in her life. She prayed that things wouldn't end as bad as she suspected they would. Her captor, a man who used to be in absolute control, had suddenly lost his balance and was on edge. Tobias was at his most dangerous like this. Georgie remembered how, in an outburst, he had murdered an entire family over a mere argument, without any regard to the evidence he was leaving behind, more than ten years ago.

Tobias sat down crossed-legged before her, and lit up a cigarette. He played with his silver lighter, decorated with his family insignia, and stared at her in a strange way that made her heart pound in her chest. He looked possessed, and yet affectionate and passionate. Or maybe, he simply was curious of this woman he had never truly known. Deadly calm, but with an unnatural glint in his yes.

In the silence, as he enjoyed the grey smoke filling his lungs, he studied Georgie. She was the woman he had once called his. The minutes dragged by – or maybe, it was no time at all - and then Tobias let out a low laugh. He threw the cigarette away onto the dusty floor. With the lighter still in one hand, he retrieved a red velvet box from his jacket.

She inhaled sharply. She'd seen it plenty of times but she shuddered as he opened it, revealing an intricate Celtic wedding ring. The silvery material shone in the semi-dark, and she thought back to when he had presented her with the same item - Celtic knots surrounded by a triquetra with a beautiful yellow diamond in the center.

Tobias lifted the ring so that it was at his eye-level, and sighed deeply. His expression seemed far away as he moved the lighter closer to the ring.

"Because of my love for you, Annie, because of this ring I wanted to give you, I've spent so many years rotting in a cold cell. All the while, preparing for this very moment." He watched the fire dance near the ring. "I wished to do things differently, my love, I really did. I had such plans for you and your friends… But, my sources tell me that our time together will be cut short." He laughed, maniacally, his eyes red and bloody. "But don't worry. I'll give you a gift - one so special you'll not forget me again so easily…"

He jumped at her like a feral predator. Tobias ripped her shirt up, revealing the lacy balconette underneath. Georgie screamed, but he only laughed and pressed the hot metal against the delicate and pale skin of her left breast. He pushed it with such strength and brute force that she swore she heard her ribs crack. The smell of burnt flesh filled her nostrils, her skin sizzled and she almost threw up. She cried up in pain and finally Tobias took the ring away, taking skin along with it.

"Why… why are you…" she panted, shaking. Bile filled her mouth and stopped her from asking, _You could have killed me, right there on that street, with no one the wiser. And yet you're keeping me alive._ But his latest vile act had taken away more energy than she thought, and the words didn't want to escape her lips.

Tobias didn't answer immediately, he just grinned terribly, his eyes fixed on what he had done, like it was some kind of twisted trophy.

"Because," he said. "Because you know me, Annie. I don't just kill people - I _destroy_ them. I make them beg to be killed, to be spared further horrors. I wanted to kill your precious little family - wanted you to witness what I would have put them through because of _you. Your_ fault. But a little bird told me we've got no time to spare, my love, so a little torture will have to suffice."

Silence engulfed them like a heavy cover. Georgie shook… and then she began to laugh. Loud. Sinister. And mocking. Tobias narrowed his eyes warily.

"You are so predictable, Tobias. And so childish. I think…" Georgie paused, mustering her strength. Speaking was costing her more energy than what she wanted to admit. "I think all you ever wanted was to get Annie back. That you though I would have turned into her, just to save my skin."

Tobias closed his eyes for a moment to inhale and exhale slowly. Then, he cleared his throat and let out a low laugh. He appeared to be in control once again as he leaned in close to Georgie, nuzzling the point where her neck met her shoulder. He skimmed over the sore he had just given her and Georgie hissed through her teeth at the stinging pain left behind.

"I have no illusions, love, and I'm no stupid either." He whispered against her skin. Georgie trembled. "I'd never allow _you_ , of all people, to fool me twice."

He bit her neck, hard. Georgie's eyes stung with tears, but she refused to give Tobias the satisfaction of hearing her cry. His bite slowly turned into kisses, and when he let it go of her, Georgie felt something hot and liquid running down her neck – he had drawn blood.

Tobias inhaled the scent of burnt flesh, looking thoughtful. He cocked his head with a wicked smile as his fingertips danced on her skin. "For over two years, I didn't say a word. I was in a place where there was no law, nor rules. Those flatfeet would do unspeakable things to me, use any trick in the book, use all the information they had on me. They tried everything, Annie- _everything._ And yet, they never broke me. I never faltered, I kept being the proud warrior my father raised me to be. For over two damn years. And then…"

He pressed his lips against her skin. He inhaled deeply, as his hand moved to her breast. He palmed the skin he had marked with his ring, and Georgie hissed. He laughed quietly, and his breath hit Georgie – it smelt like rotten eggs and caffeine and smoke all put together.

"And then, they told me the truth. That the woman I had wept for had never existed. That the wife I thought dead because of those bastards had been _one of them_ all along… and worse than that, she still lived. Even that didn't break me. It just signed your death certificate, love."

He slapped her, hard, and Georgie lost her balance, falling on her back. His madness returned full force, his hate and his need for revenge poured out of him.

"I'm not the same man you left behind. No one's gonna get in my head, ever again - not anyone, and especially not you." He hissed, yanking her up by the hair. "I wanted for you to suffer the same way I did, but, like I said…"

He parted, from her, and the lack of contact was a sharp relief. He retrieved something from underneath the bed. Georgie's heart skipped a beat when she saw what it was: a gun. He drew closer, standing tall and aiming for her.

"Time's out, love. Anything you wish to confess?"

Tobias knelt down, his grin maniac as he pressed the barrel against her forehead. The metal was icy cold against her heated skin. A thin layer of sweat broke over her whole body, and her vision swam. Her chest hurt like nothing before and her heart beat so fast and hard it felt close to exploding. But she promised herself that she wouldn't give him this satisfaction. She would be strong- for herself, and for her family.

When she refused to share any last word, he smacked her with the stock of the gun, on the side of the head. Georgie fell again, hitting her cheek on the cold, dusty floor. In the back of her mind, she heard Tobias ordering her to stand and face him like a real woman.

She didn't – she didn't want to. She knew that giving him what he wanted would mark her end, and she wasn't ready yet.

"I told you…" he hissed, grabbing the collar of her ripped shirt. He yanked her up to his eye-level. "Look at me and say something, dammit!"

Her face hidden by a curtain if hair, she gulped and faced the rabid man she had once shared her bed with. Tobias growled and threw her on the ground. He kicked her in the stomach with his boots.

"Say. Something. Dimmit!" he said between clenched teeth, each word punctuated by a blow. "Why. Aren't. You Defending. Yourself?"

On her back, Georgie desperately felt for something in the semi-darkness to help her. She _wanted_ to fight- but she still wasn't strong enough. Her time had apparently finally come.

She closed her eyes as they burnt with tears, and she tried to go to a happy place - somewhere in her mind where there were only good memories and happy thoughts. Her fingertips hit something rough and large- one of the bricks she thought she had seen waking up. With trembling fingers, she grabbed it, feeling its weight. She waited for the right moment, knowing there would be only one chance to get it right. Tobias snickered at her attempt – like he knew she was still drugged up – and leaned right down close to her. The pressure of the gun against her skin increased, and he got ready to finish Georgie.

"Huh?" Tobias muttered, distracted by a sudden commotion coming from the outside. The lightbulb went out, and Georgie mustered the last of her strength, hitting him on the head with the brick. But, she was too frail and weak for the drugs. The blow did little more than make him bleed a little and piss him of.

"Bitch!" Tobias hissed, wiping the wound with his sleeve. Groaning, he grabbed Georgie by the elbow, dragging her along as she was a ragdoll. "It's time to end this, love. Let's go and say hi to your husband, shall we?" He sniggered and he held the gun against her frame, using her as a human shield.

He hauled her up the stairs. Once on top, they found themselves in a small room, empty if not for the ghostly curtains at the broken windows. In that moment, Georgie saw them - her team, her family. They were all there to save her, risking their lives for one of their own. Georgie's eyes fell on Chris, and her heart broke.

Chris stared at Tobias holding his wife in his hands. The cop looked like a possessed man. His eyes were huge and bloody and veins stood out on his arms. His hands trembled as much as the gun he held.

"One more steps and she dies!" The Irishman yelled. His stare danced from one agent to the other, but returned to Chris. Tobias grinned maniacally. He buried his nose into Georgie's hair, and he inhaled her scent deeply. She tensed, her whole body quivering. Her breath was short and she was bleeding. She looked more like a ragdoll than a human being, leaning over Tobias.

They all knew where they stood and what kind of man Georgie's captor was. And it scared them, like nothing else before. If they weren't careful. if they acted too quick or upset Tobias in any way, it could be Georgie's downfall.

Tobias lifted his left arm and trained his gun on Chris, his right arm still around her neck. Georgie stiffed a sob as fear and adrenaline coursed through her. And the desire to get back at that awful man for all his wrongdoings, in the past and present. She reached up and quickly took ahold of the gun. Tobias was so deeply concentrated on Chris that he didn't fully understand what was happening until Georgie's hand was over his own.

"Tobias, let her go." Pride said sternly. "Trust me - you don't want to make this any worse." Tobias didn't answer immediately.

Pride aimed his gun at the man's head from a safe distance. Georgie knew that her team wouldn't dare to try to take him out. She and Tobias were both holding the gun, and he was trying to shrug her off. One wrong move and they would hit her.

Tobias shook his head, breathing frantically.

"Things went bad when I crossed paths with Annie. Now… it can't get any worse. And I promise you, Pride." He breathed Georgie's hair, sounding nothing like the commanding general he had once been. "If I die, I'll not die alone."

"Tobias, please….." Georgie pleaded, her voice but a whisper.

She met Chris' gaze with teary eyes. She hated herself for the lies, for the pain he was going through, but mostly, for the wasted time. So many years before, she had kissed Chris under the pretense of keeping their cover, and the feelings – the desire, the lust, the sheer _want_ – had shocked her. Instead of facing the possibility of loving again – of losing again – she'd taken off and left, running away like a scared animal.

What could have happened in those ten years? Of course there had been the potential for heartbreak, but so much more. Happiness, love, devotion, and maybe even children. Now they just had Cait, a daughter that didn't even belong fully to Chris. But he had loved that baby like she had been his own, right from the moment he had learned that she was there. He would keep loving her, no matter what. Georgie was sure of that.

 _"Tobias, please…"_ She whispered, turning her head and trying to meet his eyes.

Georgie smiled as hot tears slid down her cheeks. She pressed trembling lips to the rough stubble on his chin. Tobias lost his focus, taken aback by the gesture. She hoped he was thinking of back when he believed her affection for him was real, and her sensual touches were filled with meaning and desire. He shuddered, closing his eyes and losing himself in her touch. He didn't even fight her too much as Georgie lowered the gun.

 _"I'm so, so sorry…."_ She closed her eyes, too. She wasn't sure whom she was talking with, if Chris or Tobias – or maybe both.

Georgie saw the precise moment Chis understood what she was going to do. As she moved the gun, he screamed at the top of his lungs, lurching forward. She couldn't hear him, and it was like he was moving in slow-motion.

It was too late. The world around her froze and silence that wasn't there filled her ears. Only one sound exploded around her - a sound that, even years later, her Chris would dream of, waking up in cold sweat in the middle of the night.

Georgie kept her soft smile as Chris rushed closer. The revolver fell with a heavy clunk onto the cold floor. Georgie and Tobias followed it, tumbling to the ground in a mess of blood and libs and clothes.

"Honey, no…" Chris begged, falling to his knees. He reached out for his wife, and sobs ripped through his chest. His whispers turned raw as his tears fell on Georgie's pale cheeks. She knew that he would be brokenhearted, remembering and reliving the night he had held the dead body of Savannah, but she hadn't seen any other way out of it.

Georgie shifted her head to meet the cold gaze of Tobias. His eyes were wide open, as azure as never before, and a tiny rivulet of crimson blood escaped down his lips. Blood flowed from his abdomen.

"Eh. At the end, I got my Annie back…" He smirked sinisterly, his eyes firmly on her. "A real woman… I knew you… had to still have it in you. Some things… you just can't fake them." His maniacal laugh was broken by a violent coughing. Groaning, Tobias pressed his hands to his copiously bleeding stomach. He cried out in pain, and shuddered.

He laid still, his eyes wide open on Georgie. She exhaled in relief. It was really over. Her family would be safe from that moment on.

"Georgie, honey, please…" Chris cried, cradling her in his lap, stroking her hair. "Help's on the way. Hang in there a little longer."

In the back of her mind, she heard King calling for help. Gregorio and Sonja were there too, reassuring Chris and talking with her with soothing words. She heard their voices, but she didn't catch their words. By now, she could barely hear Chris.

She smiled again, unable to say a world, to answer to his plea. The only thing she found the strength to do was to tentatively touch his lips with her fingers, sticky with her own blood.

Cold penetrated her very being, right to her bones. She was heavy, and so, so tired. Chris begged her again to stay with him, but she couldn't. She closed her eyes, and allowed herself to fall into the Dark Lady's embrace.

Chris and Caitlin would be all right. He would keep on being a good man.

Her race was over. It was time to, finally, rest - and find peace.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

 **Notes:** written for the het_bigbang on Livejournal. Thanks to **red_b_rackham** for beta-reading _and_ editing. Girl, you rock!

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Anyone would have guessed that Jethro Leroy Gibbs was pretty close to growling, his hands at his hips as he gave his "guest" his trademarked silent stare. It was known to be able to break hardened culprits, but apparently, there was at least one person it didn't work on. Which, really, he should have known, considering their history.

"I invented the silent stare." Said Georgie. " It's not going to work with me." Georgie grabbed a greasy chip and are it, nosily. She shifted so she could get back to watching TV instead of the male body obscuring her view- there were a lot of interesting shows airing late in the evening after all.

Gibbs groaned, sounded defeated- an unusual occurrence, Georgie knew- and collapsed on his couch, at her side. He stole the remote, directly from her hands, shaking his head at her childish behavior.

"I bet you didn't try to get rid of Fornell when he was injured." she mumbled, pouting.

Gibbs grunted; Georgie glanced at him, and she saw a man who looked worried- and exhausted. It probably wasn't just the job, she realized, nor his weird hobby of building boats in his basement, that kept him awake at night: Leroy Jethro Gibbs was worried - about _her_.

Georgie clenched the fabric of her pajama, so much so that her knuckles were turning white. She couldn't meet his eyes, nor lift her gaze from the crumbs on the floor.

She realized she wasn't being fair; growing up, Gibbs had been the closest thing to a father figure she could have asked for - especially after the Major's death. They had seen each other at their worse, after all. Still, he should have known that she was healing nicely and working on her life, and that _showing_ that he was worried - something that she wasn't used to see – would have just made things awkward, no matter what.

If it wasn't about her heath, then it was even worse. Did Gibbs really expect her to accept romantic advice for a confirmed bachelor who had gone through divorce after divorce? Chris wasn't going to divorce her because she had done something drastic to stop a monster. He would understand, she hoped.

"Fornell didn't have a husband or a newborn daughter to come back to." He said, and decided that a documentary would have done, setting the remote down.

"Of course he didn't-unless he became gay since I last saw him?" Georgie laughed a little, but when Gibbs glared at her, she rolled her eyes and faced the TV again. After a long silence, she crossed her arms and spoke.

"Gibbs, it's not my fault that I've been dragged to Washington. I had to testify to that damn audit and suddenly everybody felt that getting a therapist here was the best course of action, and now if my therapist doesn't clear me I can't get back home, and she seems to think I'm compartmentalizing a bit too much and that I'm not self-centered enough to think about my own good." She sucked in a breath and sniffed, hoping that her words would somehow move Gibbs. Which, considering he continued glaring, they didn't.

"Fine." She huffed dramatically. "You win." Georgie stood, throwing the package of chips into Gibbs' lap, then she headed to the guest bedroom.

She poked her head out of the bedroom, eyes sparkling with mirth. "Oh, would you get the door, please? I think it may be for me!"

Still on the couch, Gibbs glanced quizzically in her general direction, when the doorbell rang. Despite having seen his fair share of strange happenings in over 25 years with NCIS, Gibbs still didn't like the unexpected . He approached the door warily, swallowing hard. He looked through the peep-hole, ready to protect Georgie if necessary, but he relaxed, amused, when he saw who was on the other side of his door.

Gibbs chuckled as he opened the door to the newcomer., "Well, well, well – look who the cat dragged in!" He pat Christopher soundly on the shoulder. "Christopher. Good to see you."

"Gibbs. Um. Sir-" Christopher answered, unsurely.

He and Gibbs weren't exactly close friends, but they had known each other for a good ten years. Yet, they'd always been, if not close, at least amicable.

Gibbs saddened a little, seeing this awkward and tense version of LaSalle. He remembered how himself had felt when going to visit Sharon back when they were just dating, or when he drove to get his date for the high school prom. Christopher seemed to be feeling the same way. Gibbs wasn't Newman's father – true fatherhood was something he had been robbed of when his child was murdered – but he supposed he was close enough.

"LaSalle, I'm not going to bite you," he reassured the younger agent, shaking his silvery head and chuckling. "What the hell did King tell you to scare you like that?"

From her room, Georgie called. "Told you I'm just like one of the guys to him!"

Gibbs could see Christopher's eyes turning misty, and dark thoughts crossed his mind. He remembered when he had lost his family - he could understand the nightmares Christopher had gone through during those long hours when he didn't know if his wife was alive, if she would make it or not. Christopher had been lucky. Gibbs could forgive him if the sound of his wife's voice turned him into a sap.

The two men stood in an awkward silence for a few minutes, until Georgie joined them, her hair slightly damp. She had a navy haversack on her right shoulder, and she was dressed casually, in a striped white and red t-shirt and jeans.

"Ehy, Georgina." Chris greeted her, warmly, his hands in the pockets of his trousers. He glanced down at his feet, blushing a little- probably due to Gibbs' presence – but if Georgie's smile was any indication, she just found him adorable.

"Gibbs isn't going to try to kill you if you give me a peck, Chris." She snorted with a roll of her eyes. Her bright smile stayed in place - something that, for a short while, both men had feared would never happen ever again.

"Actually, I will." Gibbs warned, but his expression was amused. He gave Georgie a playful slap on the back of her head, just like he did his newbies at work. When she pouted, he laughed- the kind of deep laugh that filled the room with happiness. He hugged Georgie, covering her whole petite frame with his bigger one, squeezing her like there was no tomorrow.

Georgie answered his embrace in kind, and when they parted, she too was sporting misty eyes.

"Don't be a stranger," he said, and she nodded. Quietly, he added. "They tell me he's a good man- a good dad. Of that much I'm sure. Be careful out there, and take good care of each other."

She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. They didn't exchange any more words, nor promises or any silly preconceptions. Neither of them was comfortable with goodbyes, but they didn't need words to know how they felt.

Soon enough, the door closed behind them, and Georgie and Chris were alone. They walked side by side down the sidewalk of a quiet and old-fashioned road in Washington, without a clear destination in mind.

"Georgina…" Chris started, a bit tentatively, as he interlaced their fingers. "Are you all right?" He wasn't sure what he wanted to say, nor what to ask.

"Yeah." She nodded, blushing. "I just - I guess I kind of missed this, you know? Having Gibbs around, it brings back memories. Good ones, mind you, but still…"

Chris squeezed her hand, hard. "I know. It's just that I can't help but wonder… if you think everything's all right…"

Georgie stopped and stared at the man she had fallen in love with so many years before, and her heart broke a little- or maybe, everything fell back into place. She looked around, at the small park they were in, and went to sit on a bench. The screams of playing children and not-so-amused mothers and nannies filled the air as Chris joined her.

"Oh, Chris," She said, taking his hand again. " I should be the one asking you that. You've been the one dealing with… with everything."

He shook his head, laying his other hand on her knee. "No. We both did. In different ways, but we both did. And, you've got injured… what he did to you…"

"Soon, we'll never see his marks on my body, ever again, Chris. They will be gone- and I want those memories gone along with them. And you should too." Her eyes stung with tears, and for a second she swore she could still feel her chest burning, that she still could feel the Celtic ring pressed against her skin.

"Still," she trailed off, wanting to shift the subject and get the two of them onto easier ground. Tobias had done enough damage, she wasn't going to allow him to get between them any longer. She would be free, and happy and in love- her ultimate revenge on him. "I'm not sure I'd be that quick to forgive, had _you_ shot yourself to give your team time to bring a murderer down…."

Chris smiled "Thought you knew, sweetheart - I'm an easy guy. I just need bad guys to catch, food in my plate, and my woman in our bed. And the less clothes, the better."

Chris cupped her face, and in that moment, she knew he was being honest. He wasn't joking, he was opening his heart up to her.

"All that matters is the here and now, " he said. " What you did - you better find a way to forgive yourself for, because I have. When you go dark, you gotta do what you gotta do to come back unharmed and bring the bad guys down."

"What about you?" said Georgie.

"Me? I was easy on the women, on the parties, and the alcohol. Not exactly a saint."

"And yet I took a chance on you anyway."

"That you did. Even though I didn't deserve it." He remembered that she had forgiven him a far bigger lie, once. Georgie had kept Annie from him - a persona she had embodied in order to catch criminals - but he had kept his son's existence from her. "And now? Sorry darling, but you ain't going away."

As the sun was set, he kissed her. She smiled against his lips, and they forgot about everything and everyone. Together, they fell into the sweet embrace of the night, getting lost in their present - and the future they were going to build together. There would be trouble sometimes, and sometimes their past would return in unexpected ways - it was inevitable. But they knew they could make it through anything together.

They parted, and she looked into his eyes, feeling like a schoolgirl with her first crush. Butterflies and heat swirled through her veins.

"Bring me home?" she asked. Georgie gently rubbed her thumb along the tanned skin of his knuckles.

"Always," Chris answered, nuzzling her neck affectionately. "Always, sweetheart."


End file.
